


Cohabitation Doesn't Mean Marital Bliss

by mt_lyfe



Series: Compendium of Inane Drabbles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Roommates, Werewolf Derek Hale, Witch Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26153533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mt_lyfe/pseuds/mt_lyfe
Summary: Daily life hijinks of Derek with his Witch roommate Stiles. Enter a cauldron of chili con carne and whether it is fit for Werewolf consumption is still up for debate. No Derek! Just because werewolves can heal doesn't mean you should drink acid!
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Compendium of Inane Drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899214
Comments: 12
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt taken from this [Tumblr blog](https://unblockingwritersblock.tumblr.com/page/17)
> 
> I'm hoping this will help me with my writer's block.

Normally having a roommate to share the household chores with would make life much easier. Unless your roommate happened to be a witch with way too many ideas and a penchant for experimentation.

Like dinner for example.

“Welcome home! Dinner’s almost ready I’m trying out a new recipe for chili con carne!” Stiles called from the kitchen

Derek shut the front door hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if he should leave it open along with all the windows. The air had a thick murky odor that clung to the entire apartment and he almost choked on it when he was standing on the other side of the door. Inside it was almost suffocating. 

He cautiously entered the kitchen and approached Stiles from behind, peering over his shoulders as the other man zealously stirred the dark brown "chili". It didn’t smell anything like chili. Or carne. 

The large pot on the stove bubbled and hissed like an angry cat. It changed colours three times in under a minute, and finally sputtered out a cloud of smoke that arranged itself into a skull.

“Is it… _supposed_ to do that?” Derek asked cautiously.

“According to the spell book... yes.” Stiles consulted the well-worn looking crinkled yellow paged book that was magically hovering next to the cauldron. 

This did not do anything to soothe Derek’s unease of what Stiles was going to force feed him for dinner tonight. They rotated chores and this week it was Stiles’ turn to make dinner. Day one and Derek was already thinking this was a horrible idea. 

“Why are you consulting a spell book for dinner?”

“You know how since you’re a writer and you have writer’s block right now?”

“...Yes?”

“I’m going through something like a witch’s block. Potion brewing troubles. Nothing is coming out right.” The chili belched loudly before settling down. 

Derek _never_ encountered food that was this vocal before. Unless it was alive.

“...So you thought it was a good idea to experiment on our dinner.” Derek stared fixedly at the concoction. A chunk of something grey floated up to the top and it didn’t smell anything like meat. “Why don't I handle the cooking tonight?” He hesitantly suggested. 

“No!” Stiles whirled around and brandished the soup ladle vehemently. It was quite threatening considering the mixture that clung onto the ladle was smoking and dripping. When the mess hit the floor it hissed and sizzled burning a hole into the tiles. 

Derek decided it was a good idea to take a few steps back, werewolf healing notwithstanding, you never knew with Stiles’ inventions. This one spat out a skull!

Maybe they could settle for something that didn’t involve cooking over a fire. Cold cuts and sandwiches sounded pretty safe. No one ever died from making a sandwich right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witches, Werewolves, flatshares and oh my!

_A week prior..._

Derek was getting desperate. This was the first candidate that lasted more than two minutes for his roommate interview and Derek still hadn’t kicked him out. It was a sign.

“I’m in a rush looking for a new place. My last roommate decided to try astral projection and hasn’t come back yet. Rent is due soon. She literally considered dying rather than pay her half of the rent and now I need to move out ASAP before she comes back to find that I stole her favourite cauldron because she saddled me with watering her Venus flytrap that likes to nibble on young nubile men. The scars dude. I’m Stiles by the way.” He got all that out in one breath.

What an introduction. At this point Derek was also in desperate need for a roommate and the last candidate didn’t even last five seconds before he slammed the door on him.

They were also scent compatible. To a werewolf that was an instant yes.

“You help pay my mortgage and we split the chores. I work from home sometimes and do not under any circumstances disturb me when the office door is shut.”

“Even if there’s a fire?”

“Are you expecting any fires?”

“You know just in case.”

Fast forward to his current predicament. Derek should have used his brain rather than his nose to make decisions for him.

This was how he was going to die. Being unable to say no to those big brown pleading eyes that held the bowl of chili out to him.

“I may have gone overboard with the spices but it’s good for your digestion,” Stiles said beseechingly.

_‘Fuck, you found out I included you in my will and you’re trying to kill me to take over my apartment.’_ He took the proffered bowl anyways and tried not to think how much he was a sucker for brown eyes. He braced himself while chanting silently, _‘werewolves can heal. If I can survive drinking battery acid, I can survive this,’_ and took a giant gulp. Might as well die in one shot.

...It tasted exactly like chili. He waited in case it had a delayed effect.

“Well?” Stiles grinned. “A lot better than you thought right?”

“It’s... fine.” He’s not dead and foaming at the mouth. The lower you set the bar, the less likely you’d be disappointed. His bar was set pretty fucking low. It certainly turned out better than expected.

“Don’t ‘fine’ me! You thought you were going to die! The look on your face right before you ate it!”

“If I looked like I was going to die why did you make me eat it anyways,” he retorted.

“Witches are like mad scientists! We have to test out everything we cook!”

“I’ll agree with the ‘mad’ part. I’m a little worried how you used ‘test’ and ‘cooking’ in the same sentence. Maybe you should be taken off cooking duty and do something innocent like... laundry.”

“Oh I can do laundry! I got this wicked charm that speeds up the washing, but a minor side effect is that your clothes turn lime green on a rainy day.”

Stiles dished out another helping, “you want seconds, yes?”

Ah shit. Roommate troubles doesn’t even begin to describe it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the sign says keep out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idea inspired from prompts [here](https://unblockingwritersblock.tumblr.com/post/137427150778/writing-prompt-480-thats-what-they-said) and [here](https://unblockingwritersblock.tumblr.com/post/137111925679/writing-prompt-473-write-this-story).

Piles of clean but unfolded laundry in maddening little clumps were littered around the apartment. 

Boxers on the couch, socks—thankfully clean— on the coffee table, shirts strewn on the kitchen table and faded ripped jeans littered the hallway. It was like the guy was widening his personal space in their shared apartment and that was unacceptable!

“Stiles!” 

Of course there was no answer. Derek hoped he was cowering in fear in his bedroom and he would have the satisfaction of dragging him out to pick up this mess!

Stomping toward his roommate’s bedroom making sure to passive aggressively step on the jeans on the way he ignored the “Keep Out” sign and opened the door with a ‘Stiles what do you think you’re doing with your shit’ forming at his lips only to be hit with a face full of pink powder. 

Sneezing up a storm he stumbled back ready to bolt out of the room and get some fresh air to clear his nose before he wolfed out in panic. The doorknob was not where it was supposed to be. It was much higher up and out of reach.

There was a groan coming from further in the room. He instantly tensed and felt his fur puff up. His tail shot up in the air. Wait, fur? He spun a wild 180 yowling with rage and caught sight of himself in the silver cracked mirror. A ball black puffed up fur and yellow slit eyes stared back at him. He was a motherfucking cat!

The closet door creaked opened and Stiles head came poking out. His hair was a wild mess standing up on odd ends, and a smudge of soot on one cheek as he called out absentmindedly, “Derek was that you?”

No answer. 

“Huh,” Stiles muttered, “I swore I heard that sexy beast’s voice.” His gaze fell on to the floor to see a little black cat frozen stiff not at all out of place in the chaotic room.

“Derek?”

Derek rolled his eyes and did the best impression of raising his eyebrows in a ‘duh’ face.

Stiles grimaced. “That ‘Keep Out’ sign wasn’t just for fun, but you had to ignore it. Now you’re a cat. How’s that working out for you?”

Derek hissed back. He felt like being a cat had his senses amplified a hundred times. It was different than turning into a wolf. Every squeak and rattle had Derek flinching and launching himself backwards and ten feet up the air, onto the nearest bookshelf before his rational brain could register what the noise was. This sucked.

Stiles chastised him, “you don’t walk into a witch’s lair just like that! Just like I know better than to barge into your den! What are you doing here anyways?”

Derek could only glare and leap down to start shredding Stiles’ dirty laundry pile.

“Oh my clothes huh, sorry about that, you can probably see that there isn’t any room in here and I get a bit scattered brained when I’m in the middle of an experiment and I didn’t want to keep clean clothes in my room when it could spontaneously combust.”

Green smoke started pouring out of his closet and Stiles continued unaware, “I was going to bring it back to my room then I got this great idea and I kind of forgot,” he ended sheepishly.

Derek yowled. ‘Smoke! You’re going to kill us both!’

Stiles clued in on the smoke, “oh hang on a sec, dinner’s almost done.”

Stiles disappeared back into the closet.

Dinner?!

There was rattle and bang, some squeaks and the sound of pans falling off shelves— way too much movement to be possible for a closet that wasn’t even a walk-in. What the hell is going on in there?

A few minutes later Stiles walked back out a bit sweaty and sootier carrying with him a cauldron that was definitely too large to fit inside a closet of what was previously a guest bedroom. He set in down in the middle of the floor without a coaster in sight. Was there such thing as a coaster for a cauldron? It burnt a blackened ring into the wooden floor.

“There we go, all done! Chicken a la King, we’re eating fancy tonight baby! You’ll love it, free range chicken is the best. I slaughtered it an hour ago, fresh as you can get, even better is when you get to use up the carcass after using the blood for voodoo, nothing’s wasted!

Derek, used to Stiles’ strange dinner plans, after all its been a month of eating his eccentric roommate’s cooking and he still hadn’t died yet, ignored it in favor of jerking his head toward the closet with an indignant mew.

“Oh that! I enchanted the closet to double as a workroom. This room would have never fit everything I owned. A thousand square feet of extra space baby! See, that's how I know we’re compatible! You’re grumpy and pretend to complain about everything I do but you didn't comment on anything else in the room. Not 'Stiles why are there dead animals here' or 'is that an eyeball' or ‘Stiles why are you cooking in the closet again.’ We’re getting alone just fine!”

Now that it was mentioned, Derek thought to take a look around.

The room had a haphazard collection of Ikea shelves lined with dusty bottles of oil and sticks of incense shoved recklessly into cups. Tarot cards and candles took up space along the wall and the desk was full of a surprising and mildly disturbing amount of tiny animal heads that were covered in a thin layer of dust. Small cauldrons and wooden boxes and crystals and buckets of unidentifiable things littered the room filling up any ounce of empty floor.

His thoughts wandered back to the closet again. He mumbled to himself, ‘Stiles just increased the resale value of this apartment by adding more square footage!’

“I know right!”

Startled Derek did a cat hop backwards five feet and stared up at shockingly yowling ‘you can understand me!’

“Yea buddy, your resident irresistible witch here. Cats, toads, bats, owls, rats, common familiars I can understand them all. Come on buddy, dinner’s ready and I know for a fact that cats like chicken.”

And he only came to complain about the laundry what the fuck was his day.


End file.
